


From the Ashes

by FindingSchmomo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Friends with Benefits to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, Homophobia, M/M, OCs out of necessity, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, also titled oikawas worst nightmare, how not to cope with falling in love with your straight best friend - a memoir by iwaizumi hajime, if we want to be honest, oneside ushioi, onesided IwaOi, straight!oikawa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-11-26 18:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18184112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingSchmomo/pseuds/FindingSchmomo
Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime doesn't know the exact moment he fell into the terrible habit. Maybe it was high school when he stormed out on valentines day and ended up sandwiched between a bathroom stall and Ushijima Wakatoshi. Or maybe it was in college, where Ushijima Wakatoshi's apartment sat beside a bar that didn't ask too many questions. Or maybe it was all the way back in middle school when a stupid kiss changed everything.Whenever it was, the habit stuck: If you can't cope with your feelings for your straight best friend, fuck the man he hates most in the world as some grandiose form of self-flagellation.Of course it sounds stupid. It doesn't make any sense.But Iwaizumi Hajime's life stopped making sense a long time ago.





	1. Chapter 1

“She asked if I wanted to move in.”

Iwaizumi’s stomach sinks at the news despite all his best efforts. The rocks swallowed down in his youth churn in the acid, still present after all these years. Suffocating. Toxic.

He rests a hand against his chest, digging his fingers into his shirt, as if the pressure will keep the bile from climbing up his throat. The fire burns hot in his esophagus, fed on the air he takes in after forgetting to breathe for too long.

“Iwa-chan?”

“Sorry,” he says quickly, squeezing the fabric of his shirt, “It’s hard to think CasanovaKawa is finally settling down.”

“Mean!” Oikawa cries into the receiver, “And it’s just, it’s just an _idea_. She only suggested it and well, it makes sense, but I’m not gonna decide anything yet.”

Iwaizumi wants to hang up the phone, as his best friend talks around his true feelings. Talking in circles when it’s obvious how smitten he’s been with this girl for the past three years. He doesn’t, though. He takes in a deep breath instead.

“When do you need to decide?”

“Not for a bit. She’s gonna check with her friends first too, in case they want to take the spot. But her roommate moves out in like, a month,” Oikawa continues.

“A month?” Iwaizumi repeats, and he must have sounded especially shocked. He hopes the rocks haven’t torn through his skin and seeped out for the whole world to see his hurt.

“Don’t worry, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa quickly replies, “If it’s about money I would pay my half of the rent until you found someone! I’m not a bad person.”

Iwaizumi bites his bottom lip, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “So you _are_ moving in with her?”

“Nothing’s set in stone yet,” Oikawa quickly says, but his tone seems distracted, and Iwaizumi knows Oikawa is lying to him. “If you don’t want me to I won’t.”

Iwaizumi knows Oikawa is telling the truth then, because despite what the world may think Oikawa really is a good person, a kind person, a wonderful, smart, capable, thoughtful--

Ugh.

“Why the hell would I pass up the chance to finally get rid of you?” Iwaizumi snaps back. Oikawa’s laugh rings through the receiver and it punctures Iwaizumi’s ear drum leaving him deaf to whatever else the man starts prattling on about.

Iwaizumi wonders what would happen if he just said it. If he just regurgitated the disgusting stew of emotions fermenting within him for over a decade. But what good would it do? Why go through the pain of throwing up just to end up with a mess on the floor? Just because it might alleviate the pressure in your chest or the fog in your head?

No one wants to kiss vomit stained lips.

“Iwa-chan! Are you listening to me?”

“No,” Iwaizumi says, and it’s the most honest thing he’s uttered since his phone rang.

Oikawa huffs, the puff of air coming out as fuzzy static, “I said, let’s get dinner! Miki-chan and I wanted to try the new Korean Barbeque pla—“

“Can’t,” Iwaizumi interrupts. Having dinner is the last thing he wants to think about with nausea swirling around him. Having dinner across from Oikawa and Kobayashi, forced to be captive audience to their sweet coupledom. He can’t do it. He can’t. Because everytime Oikawa even just mentions her _name_ it’s like the the rocks scrape hard enough to catch fire, and the flame burns at whatever pieces of his heart are left within his ribcage, coating the bone with fine patches of ash.

“Why not?”

“Huge midterm. Not all of us can get away with slacking.” Another lie. Iwaizumi doesn’t have anymore midterms. Oikawa doesn’t need to know that. It’s easier this way.

Oikawa sighs, “Not all of God’s creatures are as blessed as me.”

“Creature’s a good word to call you.”

“Iwa-chan! Mean!”

“I gotta study, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi says.

“Okay,” Oikawa replies.

Iwaizumi puts his phone down and stares at the wall ahead of him. He brings his hands up to rub tiredly at his face. He presses the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, urging the damned faucet to keep shut.

He takes in another breath as if it will keep him from drowning. It won’t. Not with the imminent monsoon about to flood his shores.

He needs a lifeline.

Does he even deserve one?

He picks up the phone and makes the call.

* * *

Ushijima lives further from campus than they do, but he does live right next to a seedy little bar where people don’t ask questions and don’t care what you do, as long as you pay your tab. Ushijima is already there, sitting by the bar, two bottles of beer on hand.

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything as he takes the stool one off from him. Ushijma is silent too, handing off the one bottle. That’s the one good thing about Ushijima--he doesn’t like talking either.

Iwaizumi downs the whole bottle, hoping the river flowing through his esophagus will smooth the rocks in his gut down to painless pebbles. He wipes a drop from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and slams the bottle back down. He motions for the bartender to send him another, something smooth that he can just swallow down without trying.

Ushijima squints at him almost as if he’s concerned.

Iwaizumi knows better. He wants to know what this has to do with Oikawa. Oikawa. Always Oikawa. Everything’s been about Oikawa no matter how hard he tries to get away. To get over it. He is over it.

(Who is he kidding?)

He gulps down half his second bottle before speaking, “He’s moving out.”

Ushijima’s golden eyes widen fractionally.

“He moving in with Kobayashi.”

Ushijima looks away, taking a swig of his own drink.

Iwaizumi looks over at him, green eyes piercing, the fire burning in his throat engulfing them, engulfing every part of him, as he says--no, as he _orders_ , “Distract me.”

Iwaizumi’s not sure how it all ended up like this. That’s the thing with habits. They’re small little things that pick up momentum until it feels like you’ve always done them, forever. That it’s just the way it is.

But Iwaizumi knows, for a fact, that this a terrible habit, a vice if anything, that his crutch when he’s down is demanding his best friend’s worst enemy to fuck him until he can’t question his poor coping skills any longer.

He can’t remember when it started, or how it started. It just is, and if he thinks about it too long he gets a headache, and enough things in his life give him headaches already.

He rests his head against the pillow, legs hiked up to his shoulders. The pillow is new. A comfort on his aging neck he’s not used to when they meet up like this. Usually the alcohol is too thick in their veins to think that far ahead. Their movements too desperate and needy by the time they end up in either of their apartments.

It’s a welcomed inclusion, especially as it provides a buffer between the crown of his head and the wooden headboard. Especially as a second finger joins the first, deep inside him and he can’t help letting out a grunt and snapping his head back. He doesn’t crack his head open. Though maybe that would have been better.

Maybe then the thoughts would finally leave him.

The hand gripping his thigh squeezes his flesh, thumb making smooth circles. Iwaizumi isn’t amused, kicking his foot at the broader man’s chest, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make a statement. He’s not here for comfort. He’s never been here for that nonsense.

“Hurry up,” he snaps, nudging Ushijima with his toes. He has too many senses still. He can still think properly, and all his thoughts circle back to Oikawa, Oikawa, _Oikawa_. And he doesn’t want to think about god damn Oikawa, “Have you gotten soft, Ushiwaka?”

There’s a third finger in his ass, suddenly, and it’s startling enough to force his back to arch. He groans, loud and guttural. His foot climbs up Ushijima’s chest to rest on his shoulder, twisting his ankle to hook it behind the man’s neck.

Ushijima leans forward without interrupting the motions of his fingers, teeth bared as he bites at Iwaizumi’s stomach. Ushijima’s a biter. Iwaizumi figured it out the hard way all the way back in high school and it lead to a very embarrassing conversation with Oikawa’s sister to borrow her makeup. It’s more funny than anything now, and part of him wants to laugh, but the other part of him is way too focused on Ushijima mouthing toward his trembling cock to think of anything else.

(Except, maybe, Oikawa.)

“Ushi--” Iwaizumi’s breath hitches, fingers moving to dig into the man’s short black hair. It’s rough against his palm and he tightens his grip. He uses every last bit of self control to tug the man away rather than push him down, “Don’t,”

Ushijima stares at him, gold eyes hungry and fierce. Iwaizumi’s hips give an aborted thrust despite his best efforts, especially as Ushijma keeps fucking him with his fingers. Curse that left hand of his. It’s too powerful. It’s got a mind of its own.

Iwaizumi tips his head back again, “Fuck me already,” he snaps, grinding his hips down impatiently.

Ushijima pulls his fingers out. Iwaizumi is about complain, readying his heel to slam into the taller man’s shoulder blade, but almost immediately he can feel the pressure of something so much bigger brushing up against him. He bites his lip, foot tugging Ushijima impossibly closer. Finally, the man pushes in, hard, fast and in one clean thrust.

Ushijima has always been one for efficiency.

Iwaizumi’s arms shoot up, clutching at Ushijima’s shoulders, nails biting into skin. Ushjima’s mouth presses dangerously against his neck. Iwaizumi’s heart beats faster, and it’s nice to know it can beat at all despite it existing only in pieces. His pulse quickens, thumping against Ushijima’s teeth, playing the melody of an enticing drum beat.

Ushijima bites down, the temptation too strong to resist. He times it with a powerful thrust which hurtles Iwaizumi into the beginnings of oblivion. It’s a hard and a fast kind of fuck, the kind Iwaizumi expects and looks for with Ushijima. The kind devoid of anything but the carnal distraction of pleasure and pain.

Ushijima fucks like a warrior. A man conquering land, marking each new territorial acquisition by planting his teeth marks in expanses of virgin skin. Swallowing each cry with his insatiable hunger for more, for all. Breaking through each and every defense and laying his claim for the world to know.

Iwaizumi doesn’t mind the treatment. Of surrendering a piece of himself to a man with such a fierce hunger for him. In fact, he loves it. Ushijima’s face holds the same intensity as the face Oikawa makes at any opponent on the other side of the volleyball net, the pure desire to utterly destroy and revel in the destruction. Iwaizumi has always wanted Oikawa to destroy him, and he has, but not in the way that ends with stars shooting in the sky, but with hidden tears smudged on a pillowcase.

The carnage of the battlefield is gruesome in the aftermath.

Iwaizumi’s body is ransacked in red blotches, his joints ache and his head rattles with the effects of the alcohol leaving his system. The pain is good. It’s distracting. He can’t think about anything but the dull incessant throb of his backside. It’s the only time Iwaizumi can just be Iwaizumi. Just Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi leaves in the middle of the night. Ushijima is dead asleep in the bed, mouth open and snoring. Iwaizumi dresses quietly, wincing every once and a while when he has to lift his legs up high to get his pants on.

He walks home, enjoying the brisk night air on his skin. He feels disgusting, but he’s never showered at Ushijima’s and he’s not about to start. He looks up at the starless sky of the city and wonders how light can hide more than it shows.

He rubs his head.

When he gets home the apartment is empty. Oikawa isn’t here. Which is to be expected. The disappointment of not seeing Oikawa here, concerned, and asking him where he was is undeserved and stupid. But it’s still crushing. Iwaizumi thinks of walking all the way back to Ushijima’s and waking him up for another session but that would be ridiculous. He walks over to his bedroom and falls onto his bed, shoving his face directly into his pillow. Maybe he can just suffocate the feeling to death.

It doesn’t work.

But he does fall asleep.

* * *

“Iwa-chan, you look like trash,” Oikawa says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Iwaizumi squints at him, “Pot meet kettle.” He pushes past him to get to their dinky little kitchen and make some coffee.

Oikawa huffs, pursing his lips and watching him lumber around, “When did you go to sleep last night? Did you pull an all nighter?”

Iwaizumi stares at him, synapses firing slowly as he tries to figure out what the hell Oikawa is talking about. And then he remembers, “Look, some of us have to study to get good grades.”

Oikawa frowns, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter, “Hajime, are you ok?”

Iwaizumi swallows thickly, stomach rolling at the use of his first name, in that soft concerned voice Iwaizumi’s only ever heard Oikawa use for him. _Mine_. He quickly turns away, digging through the cabinet for a mug, “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been studying a lot lately,” Oikawa continues, unconvinced, index finger out and drawing circles on the countertop, “Aren’t _I_ the one who’s supposed to be overworking himself?”

Iwaizumi snorts, a smile tugging on his lips, “Exactly. Stay in your lane. My job is to worry about _you._ ”

“Iwa-chaaaaaaaaan,” Oikawa whines, letting his arms stretch out against the countertop until he’s bent in half, and the tips of his fingers can brush against Iwaizumi’s loose pajama shirt. Iwaizumi side steps out of his reach and Oikawa lets out an even louder whine.

“How was dinner?” Iwaizumi deflects running his hands under the tap water.

Oikawa frowns, but acquiesces, “Delicious. You should have come! It was too much for both of us to eat. Plus,” he continues, grin stretching, “The waiter was a cute guy!”

Iwaizumi flicks cold water at him, “You don’t know shit.”

“Iwa-chan, why are you so set on dying a virgin?” Oikawa cries out when Iwaizumi pinches the top of his hand. He wrentched it back, cradling the limp hand to his chest, “I’m trying to help! You brute!”

“Stop setting me up with randos, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi sighs, watching the coffee finally start to drip into his mug, “I know you just want to use your groupon for four.”

“It’s such a good deal,” Oikawa laments, resting his head on the countertop. Iwaizumi snorts again, smile slipping onto his face without his permission. Oikawa catches it, unfortunately, and grins, “Let’s do something tonight,then!”

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi humors, “Like what?”

“Movie marathon!”

“With Kobayashi?” Iwaizumi can’t help but ask.

Oikawa shakes his head, “She doesn’t like sci-fi movies.”

 _So, why are you dating her?_ Iwaizumi can’t help but think, and he smacks himself mentally for it. No need to be a dick. Kobayashi’s a really nice girl.

That’s the problem.

It’s not like all the other girls that entered through the revolving door of Oikawa’s love life. She just slipped in, somehow, and stuck around. And Iwaizumi should have expected this, that this would happen eventually, and that he needed to just get over it. And he thought he was over it. Sometimes he thinks he’s over it. And then Oikawa will say something, will look at him, will wrap his arms around him and he’s not over it. He’s not over it at all.

“I don’t know, Oikawa,” he says, skin itchy all over. Ushijima’s marks burn beneath the fabric of his clothes, but it’s a dull ache, and it’s not _enough_ to overwhelm Oikawa’s hopeful stare, “Depends if I get everything done.”

Oikawa squints at him, and Iwaizumi knows he doesn’t believe him. Oikawa knows somethings up, there’s no way he doesn’t. Oikawa’s too perceptive, too keen, too god damn curious for his own good. Too concerned. Too handsome. Too--

Ugh.

He turns away to grab his coffee mug and take a sip of it. Black and bitter and bringing him back to his senses.

“I’ll do my best,” Iwaizumi relents after another sip.

It satisfies Oikawa enough not to probe further, thankfully. Although, he doubts Oikawa could ever guess what he does when he can’t take his own shitty thoughts and needs to escape.

Why would he ever think his best friend would fuck the guy he hates most in this world, behind his back?

It doesn’t make any sense.

Iwaizumi’s life stopped making sense a long time ago.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa ignores him, eyes drawn away from Iwaizumi entirely. It annoys him, that he doesn’t have Oikawa’s attention. That its fixated elsewhere, rather than the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: This chapter depicts a non-consensual kiss.

“This is so stupid.”

Iwaizumi sighs, but he can’t help but agree. This  _ is _ stupid.

Oikawa sits beside him, arms crossed tightly against his chest and frown severe on his face. He’s glaring out the window, watching the streets go by. But Iwaizumi can tell he’s more consumed with his thoughts than anything outside. 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says, in solidarity. He’s pretty sure Oikawa’s opinion is shared by their entire team. But it doesn’t matter, because at the end of the day, what coach says goes. 

“And it’s our last training camp too,” Oikawa continues, turning his head to look at him, “Why do they want to ruin it!”

Iwaizumi shrugs, hoping it signals Oikawa to not be shouting about his dissent. Coach is only a few seats ahead of them and Iwaizumi doesn’t want to get in trouble. Oikawa doesn’t appreciate his silence, looking back out the window instead.

Iwaizumi digs through his head for something to say, something to make his best friend feel a bit better about their current circumstance. He gnaws at his lip and shoves his elbow into Oikawa’s side to get his attention. The boy grunts, shooting him a glare but Iwaizumi just grins in turn, “We could use this to gather intel, though.”

Oikawa blinks before his brown eyes widen, “Oh,” he mouths, as the gears in his mind start to whirl. His lips stretch out into a devious smile, “You’re a genius, Iwa-chan.” Iwaizumi laughs. But Oikawa continues, a new light shining in his eyes, “We’ll have to be sneaky. Covert. Like spys! We’ll find their weaknesses. Especially that stupid Ushiwaka.”

“If he has one,” Iwaizumi snorts. 

“Everyone has a weakness, Hajime,” Oikawa says immediately, sharp brown eyes flicking over to him. Iwaizumi can’t explain why, but there’s something about his tone, his confidence, his eyes, that creeps him out. It makes his spine want to rip out from his back. He squeezes his fingers into his palms. 

Oikawa doesn’t seem to notice, flicking his gaze back out, “We just have to look for it.” 

Iwaizumi nods, because he’s not sure what to say to that. He has other thoughts clogging up his mind. Like, does that mean  _ he _ has a weakness? He can’t think of anything off the top of his head, except, maybe, English. He’s pretty bad at it. Or is it something else? Does Oikawa know? He squirms, uncomfortable suddenly with the hard bus seats. He takes his track jacket off, bunching it up in his lap to combat the growing heat in the bus. 

Oikawa’s tone keeps spinning in his mind. Not even his words, either, but, his voice. The sharpness, stabbing into him like a knife, and he’s not sure, at this point, if it's better to leave it in or pull it out. 

“What do you want?”

Iwaizumi looks up at Oikawa’s question, the sneer of disgust coating the edges of each syllable he utters. But Oikawa isn’t looking at him. He’s looking at Kageyama Tobio, one of their first year teammates, standing awkwardly in the aisle next to Iwaizumi. 

“Is it true if you sleep with a volleyball in your bed you’ll get better?”

Iwaizumi frowns. Oikawa squints at him, “What?”

Kageyama tilts his head, “Hitachiin-senpai says you do it and I wanted know if it works.”

Oikawa twists his head around to glare at a one of the other third years, sitting a few seats down. Iwaizumi can hear the growing snickers. Oikawa rolls his eyes, “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“So...it doesn’t work?” Kageyama asks. 

Oikawa licks his lips, “Well, it doesn’t work for me, because I’m already so capable. But for idiots like you, I guess anything could help.” 

Kageyama absorbs the words, nodding in understand. Iwaizumi frowns, jabbing his elbow into Oikawa’s side and grabbing their kohai’s attention, “Don’t listen to this dumbass, Kageyama,” Iwaizumi cautions, “He doesn’t know shit.”

Kageyama purses his lip, unable to believe Iwaizumi’s statements in light of all other evidence of Oikawa’s brilliance. But he does leave them, once their coach catches sight of him loitering in the aisle of their moving vehicle and shouts at him to sit back down. 

“Why don’t you let me have fun,” Oikawa huffs. 

“Stop picking on people smaller than you,” Iwaizumi snaps.

“He needs a reality check,” Oikawa mutters, turning his head to the window to end the conversation. All Iwaizumi can do is sigh. 

He sleeps the rest of the bus trip. 

* * *

Iwaizumi receives the ball, sending it back up high into the air. Oikawa moves quickly, rushing closer to the front to stand right beneath the shadow of the volleyball. He makes eye contact with Hitachiin as he prepares for a spike and sends the ball his way. Hitachiin slams it over the net, but one of the rival team members manages to save it at the last minute.

Their setter sends it over to Ushijima, as expected, and even with a three man block, he’s able to bust through with a one-touch. 

Kitagawa-Daichi ends up losing the practice match. Their penalty is running 15 laps around the gym. Iwaizumi doesn’t mind. It’s better than the suicides they were forced to run yesterday when they lost an earlier match to another school. Running is much simpler, and it’s easier to pace. 

Oikawa hates running, however. And his legs are already shaking only half way through the number of laps. Iwaizumi realizes this when he laps him, and decides to slow his pace down to run in tandem with his best friend. 

“Don’t run--”  _ inhale _ “--next to me,” Oikawa says, “You make me look bad.”

“You always look bad,” Iwaizumi snaps, “Straighten your back up. It’s not a race.”

“Has Ushiwaka done a single penalty yet?” Oikawa ignores him, eyes drawn away from Iwaizumi entirely. It annoys him, that he doesn’t have Oikawa’s attention. That its fixated elsewhere, rather than the present. 

“Focus.” 

“I can’t stand him.” 

“No one can,” Iwaizumi agrees, earning him back Oikawa’s attention, “He’s an ass. So focus on finishing the laps.”

“Right,” Oikawa grouses, looking down at the floor as he runs. 

Iwaizumi speeds up a little, leaving Oikawa to his own thoughts. He finishes the run first, sitting down on the bench to guzzle down his water bottle. Coach pats his shoulder and Iwaizumi asks him when dinner is. It earns him a hearty laugh and a simple promise of _ soon _ . It looks like Coach has something else to say when the crack of plastic hitting the floor,  _ hard _ , has both of them turning away. 

Oikawa and Ushijima are glaring at each other, the tension in the air sucking the breaths from everyone else in the gym. A water bottle rolls on the floor. 

“Oikawa!” Coach shouts, marching over to them, “What’s going on?”

The Shiratorizawa coach has also made his way over. Iwaizumi hurries after, but he can’t get too close with the two grown up in front of him. He can hear everything though. 

“It’s his fault!” Oikawa shouts. 

“I offered him my water bottle.” Ushijima snaps, sounding impatient. His voice cracks a bit as he says it. Ushijima is already taller than Iwaizumi, and his voice has started its roller coaster journey early, “He knocked it out of my hands.”

“Oikawa!”

“He was making fun of me!” Oikawa insists, vehemently. 

Iwaizumi bites his lip. 

“This nonsense has to stop,” Coach scolds, “Keep this on the court. What’s it gonna take to have you two kiss and makeup?”

Iwaizumi hears snickers in the distance and he shoots them a glare. Oikawa’s already getting scolded in front of the whole gym. He doesn’t need his teammates teasing him on top of that. 

Ushijima nods to the reprimand, but Oikawa is incensed, face red from exertion, anger and embarrassment. Coach lets out a sigh and tells him he’s done for the day and to go cool off. Oikawa opens his mouth to protest, but coach must have given him a look that sends the boy stomping off to the corner. 

Coach turns around, “Kageyama! I need you to set for the last drill.”

Oikawa slams the door of the gym behind him hard enough for the walls to shake. Iwaizumi asks if he can be excused early, but Coach keeps him prisoner in the gym. Iwaizumi’s performance isn’t stellar. He can’t help the constant glances toward the gym doors and misses a number of Kageyama’s sets. 

Kageyama looks frustrated, but his own respect for his senpai keeps his mouth shut. Iwaizumi forgets to reassure him. He can’t stop looking at the door. Finally, Coach calls it for the day, and the boys are able to rush out for the showers. 

Oikawa isn’t there. Which makes sense, he must just be sulking in the third year room. Iwaizumi showers quickly, ignoring the chatter of his teammates. He waves them off when they motion him to join them in the bath, forgoing it all together to reach his best friend sooner. 

Oikawa is sitting cross legged on his futon, back leaning against the wall and hands clutching at his gameboy. He doesn’t look up when Iwaizumi enters, nor does he bother pausing his game when Iwaizumi sits down beside him. Their sides press together, and Iwaizumi tilts his head to watch Oikawa play. 

Oikawa turns his game off when the pokemon he’s trying to catch runs away mid-fight. He shoves the device back in his bag and folds his knees up to rest his forehead on them. Iwaizumi waits. 

It takes another few minutes, but finally Oikawa takes in a deep breath, “I hope Ushiwaka dies.”   
  
“Don’t say that,” Iwaizumi mutters, without much conviction. 

“I hate him,” Oikawa contines, voice muffled, “He’s so stupid.”   
  
“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agrees. 

“He said I looked tired, that my running form was weak and i should rehydrate if I so much as hoped to finish all my laps. He said at Shiratorizawa they teach proper running form on the first day.”

Iwaizumi grits his teeth, feeling the pressure of his forehead vein throb against his skin, “What an ass.”

“Yeah!” Oikawa lifts his head up, vindicated,” Why would I accept his stupid water bottle? He was just gloating. It’s not fair.”

Iwaizumi hums.

“Shiratorizawa’s only any good because of him. If we break his arm they’d be nobodies,” Oikawa mutters. 

“And then you’d be in jail. So what good would that do?”

“I’ll tell Tobio-chan to do it. Two birds one stone.”

Iwaizumi jabs his elbow into Oikawa’s side, earning him a pained grunt, “Be nice.”

Oikawa sticks his tongue out, crossing his arms. “I want to destroy Ushiwaka.”

“Good,” Iwaizumi nods. Oikawa blinks at him, but Iwaizumi continues undeterred, “Keep that feeling and unleash it when it really matters. When we go up against him in the spring.”

Oikawa purses his lips. 

Iwaizumi gets up, “Come on, I’m hungry. If we don’t go now the second years will eat our share.”

Oikawa groans, obediently getting up, “Why don’t they respect us anymore? When they were first years they listened.”

Iwaizumi snorts, “They realized you’re a dumbass. Can’t blame them for that.”

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines, and Iwaizumi grins, because the tone of voice means he’s got his normal cheery best friend back. He grabs his arm and hauls him up, sending him out the door for some much needed food.

* * *

“Ayame-san? Really?” Haku blinks, looking over at Hitachiin. The boy tries to play off his reddening face as caused by the heat in the stuffy third year room.

“Why not, huh?” he insists, “She has really big boobs.”

“Love isn’t just about boobs, Hitachiin,” Oikawa says sagely, “Love is deep and beautiful.”

“She’s also super mean,” Haku continues, “Remember when she kicked Takeda out of the class?”

“He was being an ass,” Iwaizumi mutters, unable to ignore the conversation. 

“Look,” Hitachiin says, “You asked me who I would pick out of the teachers and I told you. It’s not my fault you guys don’t have good taste.”

Oikawa snorts, and that riles up Hitachiin even more, glowering at him, “Ok, Mr. All-High-and-Mighty. It’s your turn! Truth or Dare?”

Oikawa hums smugly, “Dare. I’m not a coward.”

Hitachiin grits his teeth, squinting his eyes as he tries to think of something. And then he grins, “I dare you to do what Coach said.”

“What?” Oikawa blinks, “He says a lot things.”

“I dare you to kiss Ushjima.”

Oikawa’s mouth flies open, aghast and horrified. He sits up, sputtering, “When did Coach say that!?”

Hitachiin laughs, “He said kiss and makeup didn’t he?”

Oikawa reddens, “Why would I ever kiss the enemy? I’m not a traitor.”   
  
“Oh, so you’re refusing the dare?” Hitachiin mutters, “Thought you weren’t a coward.”

“Hitachiin,” Haku mutters, “That’s gross. No one would do that. Pick something else.”

“Nope,” Hitachiin says firmly, crossing his arms, “That’s the dare. You take it or you admit defeat.”

Oikawa glares at him, but his pride doesn’t let him lay back down, “Fine. But I’m not kissing the enemy.”

“Then how can you say fine?” Hitachiin snaps.

Oikawa ignores him, eyes steely with resolve as he turns to the side. Iwaizumi is sprawled next to him on his futon and looks at him with a raised eyebrow when they make eye contact. Nothing can prepare him for Oikawa’s hands suddenly grabbing at his face, fingers digging into his cheeks. Iwaizumi shouts, arms flying up to defend himself but it’s too late. Oikawa smashes their lips together.

Iwaizumi is stunned.

Oikawa pulls away with a shit eating grin, “There. Done.”

Hitachiin frowns but Haku lets out a laugh of approval. “How does that count?”

“It counts,” Haku says mid laugh, “He did something equally gross. But he didn’t betray the team.”

“Haku gets it.”

“You broke Iwaizumi.”

Oikawa flicks his gaze down, to where Iwaizumi still lays limp beside him. His mouoth a centimeter a jar and eyes wide. Oikawa snorts, poking Iwaizumi’s side, “Earth to Iwa-chan.”

It’s like he presses a button, and Iwaizumi snaps out of his daze. Floundering to sit up as his face blossoms cherry red, “What the hell, Oikawa!”

“What?”

“You kissed me!”

“It was a dare.”

“That was my first kiss, asshole!”

Oikawa laughs, light and giddy, “Oh, Iwa-chan, we’re guys. It doesn’t count.”

Iwaizumi stares at him, but he lifts his pillow and starts whacking him with it. Oikawa shouts for mercy but Iwaizumi isn’t in the mood. He’s angry, his stomach flipping and twisting and face so red he’s starting to sweat. He keeps slamming the pillow down until his arms get tired. 

Then he gets up.

“Iwa-chan, where are you going?” Oikawa whines, “It’s your turn!”

“I don’t want to play this shitty game,” Iwaizumi snaps, kicking him lightly in the side, “I have to go wash my mouth out.”

Oikawa’s offended face has Haku roaring back into his laughing fit. Even Hitachiin snickers this time around. Iwaizumi doesn’t look back, just slams the door shut and stomps his way over to the bathroom. 

Iwaizumi brushes his teeth three times, but the feeling remains. Like a tingling on his lips, electricity thrumming against his face and keeping him awake and aware. His face still feels on fire and he doesn’t know how to explain it away. 

He looks at himself in the mirror, rubbing at a pimple on his chin. His lips are chapped, and he wonders if Oikawa noticed. Oikawa’s lips were soft. His skin is soft too. He’s never seen him have acne, but he might be using his older sister’s makeup. Iwaizumi isn’t sure.

He rubs his mouth on his towel and the feeling still won’t go away. 

Iwaizumi has never wanted to kiss a girl. Or anybody really. He still thinks girls are kind of dumb. They don’t like getting in the mud with him and looking for bugs. The girls on the volleyball team are ok. Maybe he needs to kiss one for the feeling to go away. 

Iwaizumi doesn’t want to kiss a girl.

He does. Kind of. Want to kiss. Oikawa? But that’s stupid. That’s what made this whole mess. But part of him wants to do it again, now that he knows what’s coming, so he can process it better. And then maybe the feeling will go away. Because the shock is a lot right now. 

The very thought of it though is horrifying, making his skin redden even hotter. Maybe he should throw up. It feels like he swallowed some pebbles and they’re grinding against each other in his rolling stomach. 

He splashes his face with more cold water and tries to steal himself. He’s being stupid. He’s going to go back in there and ignore the rest of them and crawl into his futon and sleep. 

He does just that when he gets in, though Oikawa does poke at his elbow, his touch apologetic. Iwaizumi sighs, apology accepted. 

He still sleeps facing the other way.

* * *

 

Iwaizumi tries not to think about the kiss. Everyone else seems to have forgotten about it. But the phantom touch is still there on his lips and its distracting and frustrating. Luckily, Oikawa is frustrated too. And his waves of frustration are louder and take all the attention off of Iwaizumi. 

Oikawa’s frustration is different from Iwaizumi’s preoccupations. 

“Will you stop!” Oikawa shouts, turning around and throwing the volleyball he was previously clutching. 

Ushijima receives the ball easily, blinking at Oikawa, “What do you mean?”

Iwaizumi catches the ball before it can hit someone. 

“Don’t act dumb!” Oikawa sneers, crossing his arms, “You’ve been staring at me all day!”

“You tend to be the center of attention,” Ushijima explains with a shrug. 

Oikawa huffs, storming off to go chat with the second and first years. Iwaizumi shifts his look over to Ushijima and finds that he  _ is _ watching Oikawa. Closely, eyes squinting and following his every move. He frowns, the pebbles grinding within and he drops the volleyball on the ground to hurry after his best friend. 

He bumps into his side. Oikawa nudges him back with his shoulder.

“He really is staring at you,” Iwaizumi agrees.

Oikawa groans, “I know!” he snaps, releasing some tension now that he feels vindicated, “Is he still staring?”

Iwaizumi looks back to find Ushijima watching them, eyes a bit wider. They make eye contact and Ushijima doesn’t look away. Iwaizumi turns back around, hunching his shoulders up, “Yeah.”

Oikawa frowns, “He’s obsessed,” he grouses, acid rising like bile in his throat, “He’s so gay. I can’t stand it. I don’t know how his team deals with him in the locker room. They probably hate him.”

Iwaizumi feels a bit winded, “Huh?” he says, blinking rapidly, “Ushiwaka’s gay?”

“I don’t know,” Oikawa mutters, but continues undeterred, “Why else would he keep staring at me? He’s a freak Iwa-chan.”

“Oikawa-senpai!”

“What, Tobio-chan? Can’t you see us grown ups are busy?” 

“Can you help me practice my sets.”   
  
“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“No. Look, we’re busy right now, aren’t we Iwa-chan?...Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi blinks again, hand moving to clutch at the fabric of his shirt. He feels sick, the pebbles ricocheting around his stomach, some even coming dangerously close to hitting his ribs. He ignores Oikawa. He can’t bring himself to even look at him he feels so sick, “I need to fill my bottle,” he lies.

Oikawa calls after him but he can’t even hear it. He scurries to the water cooler to fill up his bottle. Coach asks him if he’s alright and makes him sit down on the bench until the color returns to his face. He keeps his head down between his knees. 

He wants to throw up. He wants to expel everything out of him. 

But it’s probably too late. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like writing these short punchy chapters. im blown away by the support in the comments. thanks for joining me in my crusade. keep the dream alive.
> 
> rant with me on twitter @findingschmomo
> 
> love y'all

**Author's Note:**

> hi, welcome.
> 
> its time to wake up sheeple, to the most important ship: UshIwa. Y'all have been sleeping on them for five god damn years and it's time for me to finally take a stand. Join me on this ride of debauchery, teenage angst, and ooey gooey love as two dumb butts realize that maybe they actually like each other more than they think. 
> 
> it's a harsh world out there for people like us, on the fringes of society, who were brave enough to see the light. so comments and kudos are appreciated, and will keep me nourished. 
> 
> or say hi to me on twitter here
> 
> love y'all


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